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That is removed by a staff of France; | But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy! Our colours do return in those same hands Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great : That did display them when we first march'd Of nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose. And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, I will instruct my sorrows to be proud : Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes. For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. A complete Lady.
Constance to Austria.
O Lymoges ! 0 Austria! thou dost shame If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch?
ha That bloody spoil: thou slave, thou wretch,
thou coward; If zealous love should go in search of virtue,
Thou little valiant, great in villany!
| Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! "
. | Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight, Whose veins bound richer blood than lady
But when her humorous ladyship is by,
To teach thee safety! thou art perjur'd too, - Rounded in the ear
And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art
thou, With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil; That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith; |
A ramping fool! to brag, and stamp, and swear, That daily break-vow; he that wins of all,
| Upon my party! thou cold-blooded slave,
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men,
Been sworn my soldier ? bidding me depend maids Who having no external thing to lose [that;
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength?
& And dost thou now fall over to my foes ? But the word maid-cheats the poor maid of That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling com
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it, for shame,
And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs. modity
The Horrors of a Conspiracy. Commodity, the bias of the world;
I had a thing to say--but let it go : The world, which of itself is poised well
The sun is in the heaven; and the proud dar, Made to run even, upon even ground; Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gaudes,
To give me audience. If the midnight-bell From all direction, purpose, course, intent;
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night; And this same bias, &c. A Woman's Fears.
If this same were a church-yard where we Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs : me,
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, For I ain sick, and capable of fears;
U Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick, Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of
(Which else runs tickling up and down the fears;
veins, A widow, husbandless, subject to fears ;
| Making that idiot laughter keep men's eyes, A woman, naturally born to fears; And tho' thou now confess thou didst but jest,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
" | A passion hateful to my purposes); With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce,
Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, But they will quake and tremble all this day. |
• Hear me without thine ears, and make reply Tokens of Grief
| Without a tongue, using conceit alone What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? | Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of Why dost thou look so sadly on my son?
words; What means that hand upon that breast of Then in despite of brooded watchful day. thine?
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts; Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, But, ah! I will not Like a proud river peering o'er its bounds ?
A Mother's Ravings. Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?
| I am not mad; this hair I tear, is mine; Then speak again; not all thy former tale,
My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wife; But this one word, whether thy tale be true. Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: A Mother's Fondness for a beautiful Child. I am not mad- I would to Heaven I were ! If thou, that bidd'st na be content, were For then 'tis like I should forget myself : grim,
O, if I could, what grief should I forget! Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, Preach some philosophy to make me mad, Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless stains, | And thou shalt be canoniz'd, Cardinal ; Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending My reasonable part produces reason marks,
How I may be deliver'd of these woes, I would not care, I would then be content; And teaches me to kill or hang myself. For then I should not love thee: no, nor thou If I were mad, I should forget my son, Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he:
I am not mad: too well, too well I feel
Have you the heart? when your head did The diff'rent plague of each calamity.
but ake, Apostrophe to Death.
I knit my handkerchief about your brows
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me), O amiable, lovely death!
And I did neger ask it you again : Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness!
And with my hand at midnight held your Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
head; Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And like the watchful minutes to the hour, And I will kiss thy detestable bones;
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time; And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows;
Saying, What lack you and, Where lies your And ring these fingers with thy household worms;
| Or, What good love may I perform for you? And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
Many a poor man's son would have lain still, And be a carrion monster like thyself:
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil'st
But you at your sick service had a prince. And buss thee as thy wife! misery's love,
Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love, O, come to me!
And call it cunning: do, an if you will; A Mother's Grief.
If Heaven be pleasd that you must use me ill, Father Cardinal, I have heard you say, Why then you must.-Will you put out mine That we shall see and know our friends in
These eyes that never did, nor never shall, If that be true, I shall see my boy again; | So much as frown on you?For, since the birth of Cain, the first maleTo him that did but yesterday suspire, schild, Alas! what need you be so boist'rous rough? There was not such a gracious creature born. I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. But now will canker sorrow eat my bud, For Heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
bound! And he will look as hollow as a ghost,
Nay hear me, Hubert, drive these men away, As dim and meagre as an ague's ht;
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; And so he'll die; and, rising so again,
I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven,
Nor look upon the iron angerly: you, I shall not know him : therefore, never, never
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
Whatever torment you do put me to.
Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. . K. Phil. You are as fond of grief as of your
Arth. O Heaven! that there were but a mote child.
in yours, Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent | A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; Any annoyance in that precious sense ! Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words; Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
there, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form : Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
To add to Perfection, superfluous and sus.
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, There's nothing in this world can make me To throw a perfume on the violet, joy:
To smooth the ice, or add another hue Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Unto the rainbow, or with taper light Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.
In this the antique and well-noted face The fit is strongest ; evils that take leave,
Of plain old form is much disfigured : On their departure most of all show evil.
And, like a shifted wind unto a sail,
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about; Dunger lays Hold of any Support. Startles and frights consideration; He that stands upon a slipp'ry place, Makes sound opinions sick, and truth susMakes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.
For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. Arthur's pathetic Speeches lo Hubert.
Murderer's Look. Methinks, nobody should be sad but I: This is the man should do the bloody deed; Yet, I remember, when I was in France, The image of a wicked heinous fault Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his Only for wantonness. By iny Christendom, Does show the mood of a much troubled breast. So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
Struggling Conscience. I should be merry as the day is long
The color of the king doth come and go | Between his purpose and his conscience,
Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set :
A Man's Tears.
| That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks : Old men and beldams, in the streets,
My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, Do prophesy upon it dangerously: [mouths ;
Being an ordinary inundation; Young Arthur's death is common in their
But this effusion of such manly drops, And, when they talk of him, they shake their
This show'r blown up by tempest of the soul, heads,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd, And whisper one another in the ear;
Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven And be that speaks doth gripe the hearer's I Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors. wrist;
Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, Whiles be that hears makes fearful action,
And with a great heart heave away this storm: With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling
Commend these waters to those baby-eyes
| That never saw the giant-world enrag'd; I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,
Nor met with fortune other than at feasts, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping. With open mouth, swallowing a tailor's news;
Drums." Who with his shears and measure in his hand, Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste
. war Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet), Plead for our int'rest. - - . Told of a many thousand warlike French,
- - - - - - Do but start That were embauled and rank'd in Kent: | An echo with the clamor of thy drum, dnother lean unwash'd artificer
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd, Cats off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. | That shall reverberate all as loud as thine:
Sound but another, and another shall, Angs' evil Purposes too servilely and hastily | As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear.
executed. It is the curse of kings, to be attended
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder. By slaves, that take their humors for a warrant
The Approach of Death. To break into the bloody house of life;
It is too late, the life of all his blood And, on the winking of authority,
Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain To understand a law; to know a meaning
(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwellOf dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it
ing house) frowns
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, More upon humor than advis'd respect.
Foretel the ending of mortality.
Madness occasioned by Poison.
Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room ;
[in me. Thro'my burnt bosom ; nor entreat the north And those thy fears might have wrought fears To make his bleak winds kiss my parch'd lips,
And comfort me with cold.
England invincible, if unanimous.
| England never did (nor never shall) And he, long traded in it, makes it seem
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, Like rivers of remorse and innocency.
But when it first did help to wound itself.
Now these her princes are come home again, Despair. If thou didst but consent
Come the three corners of the world in arms,
And we shall shock them :-Nought shall To this most cruel act, do but despair,
make us rue,
bread If England to itself do rest but true. That ever spider twisted from her womb Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be a
$ 27. JULIUS CÆSAR. SAAKSPEARE. To hang thee on: or, wouldst thou drown
Patriotism. Pat but a little water in a spoon,
What is it that you would impart to me? And it shall be as all the ocean,
If it be aught toward the general good, Eaqugh to stifle such a villain up.
Set honor in one eye, and death i' the other,
And I will look on both indifferently :
Cæsar's Dislike of Cassius. For, let the gods so speed me, as I love
Would he were fatter !-but I fear him not: The name of honor more than I fear death.
| Yet if my name were liable to fear, Cassius, in Contempt of Cæsar. I do not know the man I should avoid I was born free as Cæsar; so were you : So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; We both have fed as well; and we can both He is a great observer, and he looks [plays, Endure the winter's cold as well as he. Quite through the deeds of men; he loves no For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
As thou dost, Autony; he hears no inusic: The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores,
Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort, Cæsar says to me, “ Dar'st thou, Cassius, now As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit Leap in with me into this angry flood,
That could be mov'd to smile at any thing. And swim to yonder point?"-Upon the word,
Such men as he be never at heart's ease, Accoutred as I was, 'I plunged in,
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves; And bade him follow : so, indeed, he did. And therefore are they very dangerous. The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
I rather tell thee what is to be feard, With lusty sinews; throwing it aside,
Than what I fear; for always I am Cæsar. And stemming it with hearts of controversy.
Spirit of Liberty. But ere we could arrive the point propos’d, I know where I will wear this dagger then; Cæsar cried, “ Help me, Cassius, or I sink.” Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius : I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,
| Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder I strong ; The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of | Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat; Did I the tired Cæsar : and this man [Tiber | Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Is now become a god; and Cassius is
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, A wretched creature, and must bend his body, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; . If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.
But life, being weary of these worldly bars, He had a fever when he was in Spain; Never lacks power to dismiss itself. And, when the fit was on him, I did mark If I know this, know all the world besides, How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake; | That part of tyranny, that I do bear, His coward lips did from their color fly; I can shake off at pleasure. And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the Ambition, covered with specious Humility. world,
But 'tis a common proof, Did lose his lustre; I did hear him groan: That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Ay, and that tongue of his, that badethe Romans | Whereto the climber upward turns his face: Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
But when he once attains the upmost round, Alas! it cried " Give me some drink, Titi
He then unto the ladder turns his back, nius"
Looks in the clouds, scoring the base degrees As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, By which he did ascend. A man of such a feeble temper should
Conspiracy dreadful till executed. So get the start of this majestic world,
Between the acting of a dreadful thing, And bear the palın alone [Shout-Flourish.
And the first motion, all the interim is Bru. Another general shout!
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: I do believe that these applauses are
The genius and the mortal instruments For some new honors that are heap'd on Cæsar.
Are then in council; and the state of man, Cas. Why, mau, hedoth bestride the narrow
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.
Conspiracy: dlen at some time are masters of their fates :
[night, The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
| When evils are most free? O, ihen, by day Brutus. and Cesar : what should be in that Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough Cæsar?
Tvours To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none,
[yours? Why should that name be sounded more than
Hide it in siniles and affability; [conspiracy; Write them together, yours is as fair a pame;
For if thou path, thy native semblance on, Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
| Not Erebus itself were dim enough Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,
To hide thee from prevention. Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar,
Against Cruelty. Now in the names of all the gods at once,
Gentle friends, Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed, Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd: Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! | Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds; When went there by an age, since the great flood, And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, But it was fam'd with more than with one man? | Stir up their servants to an act of rage, When could they say till now, that talk'd of | And after seem to chide them. Rome,
Sleep. That her wide walks encompass'd but one man?! Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber :
Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies,
His Address to the Conspirators. Which busy care draws in the brains of men, I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.
Who else must be let blood, who else is rank: Portia's Speech to Brutus.
If I myself, there is no hour so fit You have ungently, Brutus, | As Cæsar's death's hour! nor no instrument Stole from my bed : and yesternight, at supper, Ofhalfthatworth,as those yourswords made rich You suddenly arose and walk'd about, With the most noble blood of all this world. Musing, and sighing, with your arms across: I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, (smoke, And, when I ask'd you what the matter was, | Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and You star'd upon me with ungentle looks: | Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, I urg'd yon further; then you scratch'd your head, I shall not find myself so apt to die; And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot: No place will please me so, no mean of death, Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not ;
As here by Cæsar, and by you cut off, But, with an angry wafture of your hand, The choice and master spirits of this age. Gave sign for me to leave you : so I did;
Revenge. Fearing to strengthen that impatience,
Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge, Which seem'd too much enkindled; and, with. With Até by his side, come hot from hell, Hoping it was but an effect of humor, fal, Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, Which sometime hath his hour with ev'ry man! Cry, “Havoc !" and let slip the dogs of war. It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep;
Antony's Funeral Oration. And, could it work so much upon your shape, Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
your ears; I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him! Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. The evil that men do, lives after them; Calphurnia to Cæsar, on the Prodigies seen the The good is oft interred with their bones; Night before his Death.
So let it be with Cæsar! The noble Brutus Cal. I never stood on ceremonies,
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious : Yet now they fright me. There is one within, If it were so, it was a grievous fault; Besides the things that we have heard and seen, And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it. Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, A lioness hath whelped in the streets; (dead : (For Brutus is an honorable man; And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their So are they all, all honorable men) Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral." In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war, | He was my friend, faithful and just to me: Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol : But Brutus says, he was ambitious; The noise of battle hurtled in the air ; And Brutus is an honorable man. Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan: He hath brought many captives home to Rome, And ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : streets.
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious ? O Cæsar! these things are beyond all use, When that the poor have cried,Cæsar hath wept; And I do fear them.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Cæsar. What can be avoided,
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious; Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods? And Brutus is an honourable man. Yet Cæsar shall go forth: for these predictions You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, Are to the world in general, as to Cæsar. I thrice presented him a kingly crown, [tion? Cal. When beggars die, there are no comets Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambiseen :
[princes. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of And, sure, he is an honourable man. Against the Fears of Death.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, Cowards die many times before their death; But here I am to speak what I do know. The valiant never taste of death but once. | You all did love him once, not without cause ; Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, What cause withholds you then to mourn for It seems to me most stange, that men should him? Seeing that death, a necessary end, fear; O judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts, Will come, when it will come.
And men have lost their reason !-Bear with Danger.
me; Danger knows full well,
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar, That Cæsar is more dangerous than he. And I must pause till it come back to me. We are two lions litter'd in one day,
- - - - - - - - - - - - And I the elder and more terrible.
But yesterday the word of Cæsar might Envy.
Have stood against the world: now lies he there, My heart laments, that virtue cannot live and none so poor to do him reverence. Out of the teeth of emulation.
O masters ! if I were dispos'd to stir Antony to the Corpse of Cæsar. | Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, O mighty Cæsar! dost thou lie so low? | I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, / Who, you all know, are honorable men : Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well! I will not do them wrong; I rather choose